


Build It Up, Wreck It Down

by busaikko



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: John/Cam Thing-a-Thon Challenge, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-SG1/SGA canon; pre-SGU. In the wake of the Wraith attack on Earth, John's friendship means a lot to Cam when SG1's disbanded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build It Up, Wreck It Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wings128](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/gifts).



> The prompt or prompts used: 1. Top-John (he finally makes his move). 2. explicit NC-17 sex

>   
>  Oh, you build it up, you wreck it down  
>  Then you burn your mansion to the ground  
>  Oh, there's nothing left to keep you here  
>  But when you're falling behind in this big blue world
> 
> Oh, you've got to hold on, hold on  
>  Babe, you gotta hold on  
>  Take my hand, I'm standing right here  
> (Tom Waits, Hold On)  
> 

One day, Cam and his team went through the gate and the world ended while he was gone. Sure, everyone else insisted the apocalypse had actually been averted – Atlantis had swooped in and John Sheppard had nuked the Wraith superhive, and Cam heard a rumor that Landry had even cracked a smile or two – but Cam's own personal world came apart at the seams.

No matter how greedy anyone got, there was no way Atlantis could stay on Earth. The only questions were how soon the city could be booted back to Pegasus and who'd be leaving. Almost everyone at Area 51 wanted to go and study Ancient technology, but the Wraith threat made projects like Icarus and Gamebreaker more appealing to researchers who weren't keen on the risk of dying a nasty death.

Still, Cam should have figured that Daniel Jackson would throw the weight of his reputation behind a proposal to study the Ancients and the Asgard in Pegasus. Even O'Neill couldn't stop him from leaving Earth this time. Vala deciding to follow Daniel was, in retrospect, no surprise either.

"Didn't mean to steal your team," John said, following Cam out of yet another planning meeting in which the only real plans made were to hold more meetings. Cam was almost used to seeing him around the mountain by now; they passed each other in so many hallways and drank so many bottles of water on opposite sides of conference tables that for the first time the Atlantis base felt like part of the family, and not the prodigal. Cam thought he saw a lot of Sam's mentoring in the confident way John maneuvered SGC politics, and it didn't hurt that Woolsey – to the IOA's confusion – backed him up completely. Or that John was clean-shaven, properly uniformed, and short-haired, toeing all the necessary lines and looking like a film star. Right now, John gave Cam a serious and apologetic nod, falling into step with him easily.

"They _are_ civilians," Cam pointed out. "I can't handcuff them up and drag them around."

John snorted. "Yeah, I hear it's usually the other way around," he said, and changed the subject before Cam could tell him how it really happened. "I'm stuck here for the next week – " he made a choppy, comprehensive wave – "and going a bit nuts. We should go out to dinner. If you're free and know a place with good food."

"Shop talk or no shop talk?" Cam asked, because that was how these things were usually decided. Some places were more used to military personnel and gave them space.

John looked confused for a moment, and Cam belatedly realized that on Atlantis, it was probably all shop talk 24/7.

"Football?" John asked wistfully.

Cam grinned. "Yeah, I think I can pencil you into my schedule for tonight."

John proved very appreciative of the widescreen TV and didn't embarrass Cam by rooting for the wrong team, and Cam kicked himself for not having been more hospitable and asking John out himself. He tried to make up for it by beating John at pool, but John gave him a run for his money. Winner, they'd agreed, got to drive Cam's car back to base.

John was a good loser and didn't even protest when Cam stuck in his favorite best of the eighties CD. They talked about their teams on the ride back to base. Cam learned that McKay was still dating the hot doctor, Ronon Dex had asked John to be best man at his intergalactic wedding, and Teyla Emmagan really had named her baby after John.

"And her husband didn't mind in the least," Cam said, exaggeratedly incredulous just to make John splutter in indignation.

"Because I _saved her life_ ," John said, and leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out. "Asshole."

"Yep," Cam agreed, grinning. "So how's _your_ love life?"

"Who's got the time?" John said, with a philosophical shrug, and changed the topic to Vala and all the tall tales she'd been filling John's head with. Cam let John get away with the distraction, but he kind of thought it confirmed what he suspected about John, and some of the rumors he'd heard. He wished there was some way he could tell John that he didn't care if he was gay. But John might not be: might be offended, might have asshole opinions that Cam didn't want to know, might make some pretty accurate assumptions about Cam that Cam'd deny and hate himself for denying. So Cam let the subject change, and told himself he had no regrets.

They went out again the next weekend and swapped stories about the Ori and the Wraith. The argument about what kind of Replicators were worse stretched over two crappy cafeteria lunches. Cam guessed that John was lonely and didn't want to hang out with Woolsey all the time – understandably, in Cam's opinion – but it was kind of nice. Teal'c was offworld with his people and Cam was avoiding the perpetual argument vortex of Daniel and Vala, especially since Vala kept trying to get Cam to share his feelings.

He felt like he could get to be friends with John, given time.

Except then John had to leave to bounce like a pinball between Washington, Atlantis, and The Hammond, and Cam got called into Landry's office.

Landry gave Cam a very nice speech that didn't feel over-rehearsed, and presented him with three career options, now that the current SG1 was being dissolved and a new team would be taking its place.

"You've done a great job here, son," Landry said. There was enough sympathy under the pat phrasing that Cam had to swallow hard and sit even straighter in the uncomfortable visitor's chair. "And there's no denying that this country – this planet, and a few others – owes its continued existence to you and your team. But the new administration wants more research and development and less exploration and meeting new kinds of aliens who want to take over the planet. It's time to move on." He fanned out three manila files on his desk, and then pushed them towards Cam. "Call me old fashioned, but I didn't want to do this via e-mail attachment," he said with brisk apology.

"Thank you," Cam said, and cleared his throat. "Sir." He swept the files into a pile and shuffled through them quickly. "Icarus Base?"

Landry tipped his head to the side. "Career-wise, that'd be your best option, if you could pull it off. You don't have that kind of command experience. It'll be a lot of paperwork and meetings. Not very sexy." Cam could hear the last word framing itself in dry quotation marks.

Cam moved Icarus to the bottom of the pile. "The Pegasus posting sounds pretty sweet."

That earned him one of Landry's severe glares. "It'd involve liaising with the Travelers to salvage and study Ancient spacecraft and being the practical counterbalance to Dr Jackson's academic enthusiasm."

Cam leaned back. "It's a research program for developing weapons and military technology, it says here."

"And didn't Dr Jackson give us a hard time about that." Landry's expression dared Cam to do likewise.

Cam nodded, keeping his expression noncommittal, and looked over the last folder. "I have to say, sir, I can't see myself as a teacher."

Landry shrugged. "You could be good at it. Get the balance right between telling people what it's really like out there, and teaching what you're told to. The President suggested you could use the experience when you take over my job, eventually." Cam felt his eyes bug a little. Landry waved a hand at him. "People know who you are, Colonel Mitchell." A pregnant pause, and when Landry spoke again it sounded like a warning. "Not everyone gets choices. Most people get orders. So here are mine." He folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "The retirement ceremony for the current SG1 will be at the end of the month. Find and train a replacement team by then. You'll get a week off, and then you will start your new posting."

"Yes, sir." Cam took a breath, feeling like he should say something, but at an absolute loss for words.

Landry dismissed him irritably, as if Cam had taken up way too much of his time already, and Cam left the office rapping the folders against his leg. He was a little relieved to finally have a fatal diagnosis, and still too newly stunned to feel grief. He had no idea which way to jump, and he spent the afternoon firing off e-mails to everyone whose opinions he valued. Sam and John got the whole dramatic rendition of his meeting with Landry, including all the awkwardness of Cam being so tongue-tied that he didn't ask any relevant questions at all.

Sam sent him a five-page letter with everything she knew about the three positions: pros, cons, other people being considered, gossip, and her opinion of both Cam's suitability and the potential availability of macaroons (not surprisingly, lowest in Pegasus).

John sent back a short, dry note that mentioned _he'd_ only ever been given the decision between Antarctica and Atlantis. And that he'd very nearly made the wrong choice. _So I suck at advice-giving, but tell me when you're free next, I'll come over, we'll watch a game, maybe drink beer._

Which was when the penny dropped and Cam realized that Landry had, in a round-about way, let him know when Atlantis was leaving... and John as well.

Cam was busy enough over the next few weeks that he didn't need to lie to John; he really couldn't get away for even one evening. John took it in stride, or at least didn't complain. He sent Cam links to stupid YouTube videos, and Cam watched them in the middle of the night to keep from falling asleep at his desk. He complained to John about how green the new SG1 was, and kind of accidentally-on-purpose never told John what decision he made.

John didn't ask. Cam was irrationally annoyed about that, but he supposed that John might be under some pressure himself, trying to get his flying city prepared for the journey back to Pegasus.

John attended SG1's retirement ceremony, which... well, Cam was proud that he didn't actually break down and cry, especially after the official part was over and the hugging began. He hadn't realized how many people at the SCG were huggers. Not Landry, of course, but Sam, and Vala, and Bill Lee, and Walter, and a bunch of airmen and marines from other gate teams. Daniel and Teal'c gave him serious, brotherly hand-clasps, and O'Neill slapped Cam on the shoulder and leaned in to say he knew just how Cam felt.

Cam very nearly lost it then, but managed to swallow down the choked-up feeling enough to say, "Yes, sir, I imagine you do."

John didn't approach until the champagne and hors d'oeurves part of the festivities was well under way. Cam didn't have an appetite for food on toothpicks, and John wasn't carrying a plate either, so he braced himself for some kind of awkward physical demonstration, even though he didn't really see John as the type. But John just gave him sincere-sounding congratulations, which Cam tried to accept with grace.

John frowned in a concerned way and took a step closer, so he was between Cam and the throng. "You look like this is killing you," he said.

That was close enough to how Cam felt that he had to clamp his jaw shut to keep the anger in, and breathe himself calm for a minute before he could answer. He knew pretty much everyone else here had left postings or jobs they'd been attached to; he couldn't really resent John for still having command of Atlantis, not with everything he knew about John. But.... "End of an era," Cam said, more bitter than light; he couldn't help that. "Sorry. It's just – "

John nodded. "You're on leave from tomorrow?" he asked. "You said you were going home."

Cam blew out a breath and tried to remember if he'd made that call to his parents. He thought so. He hoped so. "Yeah."

"All right," John said, voice real quiet, but there was something in his tone that Cam responded to like a compass needle finding north. "I'll take you there. How you want to go? Trains, planes, Asgard beam, classic road trip?" John quirked an eyebrow up, fitting it to a wry smile. "I'll drive, if that makes a difference. And we can leave," John checked his watch, "by four, soon as this shindig wraps up."

"Sounds... good," Cam admitted. "But I don't want to wake my folks up in the middle of the night." He nearly added, _it's not an emergency_ , but then... didn't.

"Sure," John said. "We'll stop somewhere along the way." He gave Cam a nod, and then put a hand on Cam's shoulder and squeezed just hard enough to pull some of the tension out. "It's going to be okay. Pack your bags and leave everything else to me."

"Everything?"

"Yeah," John said, his voice low again. Cam made himself hear it as a promise, and not pity, and went back to his party. To his own surprise, he discovered he could smile now, and mean it.

*

Cam fiddled with his car radio, gave up, and plugged John's mp3 player back in. He might be letting John drive, but he refused to let anyone else choose the music. Since leaving Colorado he'd heard his fill of quote-unquote classic rock and ads for used car lots; fortunately, John had groups he'd never heard of that did well enough as background music, guitars limning the endless fields around them with lost opportunities and love that never worked right.

"Mind if I ask you a question?" he said, letting his weariness get the better of his common sense.

John shot him a sideways look, and Cam wished he'd take his damn sunglasses off, especially considering that the sunset was behind them. "Go for it."

And now, Cam was annoyed to realized that he didn't have the words to say what he was thinking, because he'd never asked before. Never been _able_ to ask, and wasn't that a hell of a thing. "You into guys?" he finally settled on, and John couldn't see the way his face colored. He couldn't help that he blushed easily.

John was quiet long enough that Cam figured he'd pissed him off but good, just like he'd been afraid of. But then John shifted his grip on the wheel. Thanks to his t-shirt, Cam could see the way the muscles of his arms flexed. "Don't let it bug you," John said, eyes fixed on the horizon. "I'm not trying to get in your pants, Mitchell."

Cam blew out his breath and tried to figure if that was better or worse than John punching him in the face. "Well, that's a pity," he said, and changed the song to something else that still sounded the same.

John's jaw went tight and stayed that way for the next ten miles, and Cam wondered idly if he could be held liable for any cracked molars or residual aches and pains. Cam sure wasn't young any more, and John was a good eight months older, so for all John projected a laid-back image he probably spent quality time with dental floss every day to keep the specter of his granddad's false teeth away. The way Cam did.

Over the years he'd read John's file through a few times; he remembered John's birthdate, birthplace, and mother's maiden name because his brain ran a filing system like that. Unlike mission reports from Atlantis and official evaluations, none of that human trivia said anything about the man John was. But still, it seemed like the kind of thing someone should care about.

He hadn't thought to question why he thought he should take on the role of being that someone. There were whole galaxies of people out there who didn't know John had an embarrassing middle name, and John seemed just fine with that. But Cam reckoned they were friends, and caring was what friends did.

"Okay," John said finally, apparently done with some hard thinking of his own. "So there's that." He gave Cam another fast sideways look and a flash of a smile that fell on the doofy side of reassuring.

"They changed the rules, you know," Cam said, allowing himself to relax a bit in relief. "It's not supposed to be a big thing anymore."

John snorted. "Maybe not for the new kids. Anyone in the SGC come out yet as an example to us all?"

Cam had no idea. He'd been busy enough trying not to have anyone look at him that he hadn't done any looking around. "Not my business."

"Lucky you," John muttered. "I have to run seminars. I'm on a _committee_. With McKay and Keller, who I've both _told_ but they don't know that the _other_ knows, so it's like some kind of comedy full of secretive meaningful looks. McKay couldn't do subtle to save his life."

"If you didn't think it was funny you'd let them off the hook," Cam pointed out, and John shrugged in admission of guilt and lack of remorse. "My team," he started, and then cut himself off. It wasn't like he had a team anymore, and thinking about it made his head hurt.

"I wouldn't want your team to know, either," John offered, catching the moment before it turned irredeemably awkward. "Jackson'd probably tell stories about Roman baths, Vala would take it as a challenge, and Teal'c... to be honest, I always assume all our alien allies besides Vala are pretty straight. We haven't found the planet of marriage equality yet," he added, with a wry twist of his mouth.

"Teal'c's cool." Cam frowned. "He was stuck with me in a spaceship for fifty years in a deleted timeline. I get the feeling I told him my life story twenty times over. He keeps dropping hints but won't ever just tell me what my old-ass self confessed to."

"I met McKay's old-ass self once. Kind of. He told me that the entire fate of the galaxy not to mention all my friends was square on my shoulders. No pressure there at all. You hungry?"

"You buying?" Cam asked, mouth moving on automatic without taking context into account again.

John gave him another sideways amused look, and Cam hoped he could pass the blushing off as a reflection of the sunset, or maybe some kind of weird alien rash.

"Yeah," John said, and tilted his head to the side like there was a joke and he knew it was on him, but he was willing to roll with it. "I said I'd take you home. The driving and quality dining are on me." He pointed at Cam like a warning. "The cabin we're staying at tonight's a place Landry recommended, with birds and a lake. He said you dug nature and I think he was lying, but I'm pretty good with a barbecue."

"You better pray they got wi-fi." Cam shook his head. "We allowed to shoot the ducks?"

"If you _don't_ shoot the ducks, I'll make you real coffee in the morning."

"You could drive faster and we'd be at my momma's place by two and _she'd_ make me no-strings coffee."

"Could do," John said evenly. "Will if you want to."

Cam slouched down as far as he could in the stupid seatbelt. "Already told them I'd be there lunchtime tomorrow. Just keep the damn ducks away from me."

"It's going to be okay," John said. He reached over and Cam thought for a moment that John was going to pat his leg, offer sympathy or something, but John just plucked his music player out of Cam's hand, tapped his way to a playlist almost without looking, and turned the volume up a bit as complex, melancholy acoustic guitar filled the car. It wasn't Cam's favorite kind of music; it made him sleepy. He dug his phone out of his jacket pocket and checked for messages, and then checked his map app to see where the GPS said they were. He was thinking of doing something else – he was pretty sure he had work to do – when the music finally dragged him under. Between one app and another, he was down for the count.

He didn't wake up when John pulled off I-70, or when they arrived at the cabin, or while John was unloading the trunk, putting sheets on the bed and the sofa, and getting the fire going in the grill. When John finally shook him awake it was full dark and cool, bright stars shining through tree branches. Cam stumbled getting out of the car and John straightened him reflexively, like it was no big deal, keeping his hand on Cam's arm as he guided him indoors.

The cabin decor gave Cam deja vu – the oil painting of waterfowl over the woodburning stove, the clunky wooden furniture – but he shook that off, trying to pay attention to what John was saying. Cam's duffel was on the foot of the bed; the bathroom was through the door on the left; the potatoes were almost done, so John was going to toss the steaks on in about ten minutes.

"Cool," Cam said, and added, "Sorry." 

John shook his head, quick and sharp. "Nothing to be sorry for." He had pulled a flannel shirt on over his tee, and Cam thought he looked at home. He wondered if John was into outdoors stuff, fishing or birdwatching or hiking – the subject had never come up, and he'd just assumed.... But maybe he needed to start questioning his assumptions about John. "You want a beer?"

"Sure," Cam said, and then realized that he felt sticky and stiff, the gross unpleasant way he got after sleeping in his clothes. In the field he'd just ignore it, but he didn't have to do that now. "Might take a shower first."

John nodded. "I'll be outside," he said, and gestured. "Grilling stuff."

The hot water woke Cam up all the way, and he realized he probably hadn't had a full night's sleep since Landry gave him his options. He wouldn't go so far as to say he was relaxed, but he thought he could get through dinner without checking his e-mail compulsively.

When he went outside Cam thought the place was like Landry heaven. From the back porch there were steps down to the dirt patch where John had the barbecue going, and a short walk down from that led to the lake shore and a private dock. Cam bet the fishing was good. There were a few lights to indicate other cabins tucked into the woods, but none of them were close by. It felt private, and about as safe as any place did.

"Here," John said, and handed Cam a plate with steak, baked potato, and traumatized-looking broccoli. "You want to eat on the porch or indoors?"

Cam prodded the broccoli suspiciously. "It's pretty out here."

John grinned, face flickering in and out of shadow in the light from the coals. "It kind of is."

The porch had a rocker which wasn't the greatest place to eat a meal that needed forks and knives, but as Cam pointed out they'd both eaten under worse conditions. John conceded that the dishes were ugly anyway, and if he had to buy the owner new ones, at least they wouldn't be classic nineteen-seventies mustard yellow.

"It'd be a mercy killing," Cam agreed around a mouthful of potato.

John snorted, and made Cam pass him another beer.

When they were done eating, the coals were put out, and the dishes had been dumped in the sink, they headed back out to sit and swing and stare out at the stars over the water, trying to find constellations.

"No fair," John said, when Cam laughed at him for not knowing Aquarius, despite it being his zodiac sign. "I'm used to a different sky." His feet were bare and braced against the floor boards, one hand hooked over the back of the swing and the other dangling a beer bottle that Cam was pretty sure was empty. He looked young, the darkness hiding the grey in his hair and the lines on his face.

Cam shifted uncomfortably. "Did you want me to come to Atlantis and keep Jackson in line, which sorry to say has never been one of my talents? That why you're doing this?"

John twisted sideways to study Cam's face, and for once Cam didn't need to worry about any telltale redness. "Maybe I just saw you were in a bad place and wanted to do what I could."

"Because you're a nice guy," Cam said, and made a face. That came out a lot worse than he meant.

"I've been in bad places myself," John said. His mouth stayed open, like he was going to add to that, but then he shut it and rolled his shoulders back.

"I don't mind the ducks all that much," Cam admitted by way of apology.

John smiled. "I don't mind the company."

Cam leaned back to stare up at the ceiling, something warm curling to life in him. "Sure sounds like you're trying to get into my pants now, Sheppard."

John straightened, feet hitting the boards decisively. "Well, now I know your pants are _possible_...." He set his bottle down and gave Cam a questioning look, then stretched his arm along the back of the rocker until his hand settled warm on Cam's shoulder, thumb brushing the edge of skin beneath Cam's collar. Cam shivered into the touch, breath catching, feeling transparent. "Do you kiss on the first date?"

"Been so long I can't remember," Cam said, but his body was already turning towards John.

"Remember this," John said, so low Cam wouldn't have heard him at all if John hadn't been just a breath away. And then John's mouth was against his own, kissing like he wouldn't take no for an answer, like no wasn't even a possibility. And Cam was terrifyingly okay with that – with letting John make the decisions. Cam let John tilt his head back and explore his mouth slowly, and all Cam had to do was hang on for the ride.

John kissed like he was taking Cam apart, like he was collecting intel, and Cam didn't bother putting up even a pretense of coyness. John slid his fingers into Cam's hair to tilt his head back and Cam went, eyes shuttering against how good it felt to be in John's hands.

Cam was hard enough to be shifting in his seat when John pulled back and gave him an unreadable look. "Let's take this inside," John said.

Cam didn't want to talk about... anything, really. He was kind of relying on John to figure that out. "Sure," he said, holding back, letting the word roll out easy, like he didn't care what they were heading inside to do. Watch old episodes of The Simpsons, fine; drink more beer, great; have the kind of sex they'd spent their adult lives trying not to want or need or think about, _sure_.

John just snorted and rolled to his feet with the grace that came from practiced and practical stealth, barely rocking the swing. He held out a hand to haul Cam up, and that did make the swing twist back and come at them. John had already pulled Cam out of the way, letting go of his hand to yank the door open and wave him through.

John kissed Cam again as soon as the door swung shut and was latched, hands on Cam's waist, untucking his shirt and warming his hands on Cam's bare skin despite Cam's half-hearted attempts to get away. Cam retaliated by shoving John's shirt off his shoulders and sliding the tongue of John's belt free, so his jeans hung loose and perilous on his hips, held mostly up by Cam's hand.

"Fuck," John said finally, dropping his head to breathe hard against Cam's shoulder. "I want to fuck you. You do that?"

Cam hadn't in years, but – "Yeah." He wanted to do this hard and rough; he wanted to _feel_.

John's head raised, and Cam found himself pinned by a dark, hungry stare. "You want that with me?"

Cam thought about all the things he'd say if this was a real first date – about not wanting to be easy, about caution, not diving into the deep end and drowning – and what he'd be saying if this was another anonymous hook-up at a club, pretending to be more casual than he was, acting like he was the kind of person who never stuck around until morning. This was different; this was wanting to be naked and spread out for someone who wouldn't ask stupid questions about his scars, because John _knew_. And the one thing Cam was always in control of in bed was how much his partner knew about him. Usually, Cam didn't tell them much. He wasn't really a second-date kind of guy.

But now and here, with John, Cam just wanted to... let it all go. "Yeah," he said, and ran his fingers over John's skin just above the waistband of his jeans. "Hell yeah."

John's smile pulled up from the corners, sharp like a V, dangerous. He jerked his chin back towards the bedroom and gave Cam a push, not enough to send him stumbling, but impatient. Even before they got to the bed John was stripping Cam's clothes off, mouth landing kisses on exposed skin like he was laying claim. Cam tried to return the favor, and John let him; it felt like there wasn't any part of either of them that wasn't touched. Except their dicks. That was one of the things about getting older, Cam thought. Anticipation got to be nearly as good as fulfillment.

John shoved him back onto the bed, with a short order to scoot up, and then crawled up after him. John put his hands on Cam's hips, holding him down, and ducked his head to catch just the head of Cam's dick in his mouth. He explored with his tongue before sliding down to take Cam in almost all the way. Cam'd been watching – it was a hell of a show – but his head smacked back against the mattress with pleasure overload, feeling sweat break out along his chest as he breathed hard and told himself firmly that he was _not_ going to come half a minute into the night. He was pretty sure that he made an embarrassing noise, but John just pushed down with his thumbs and hummed approval, turning his head as he moved his mouth up, tight and wet, slid down, not sucking so hard as to push Cam over the edge, but plenty enough to make him want it.

John's far hand traced down along the crease at the top of Cam's leg, nudging between his legs to cup warm and gentle around Cam's balls. Cam's breath caught in his throat and he had to slap his palms down on the bed to keep from grabbing John by the hair.

John huffed as if in amusement and licked a wide wet stripe up Cam's dick with the broadside of his tongue. "You like that?" John asked, pulling off, voice rough.

"It's a fine line between good and too much," Cam admitted. "I'm not a squeezing kind of guy."

"Huh," John said, and settled his head down on Cam's thigh. He leaned forward and licked Cam's balls carefully through his fingers. Cam's fingers tightened on the sheets, and he couldn't stop one knee from arching. "Too much?"

"Maybe next time," Cam got out.

He felt a breath of warm air that was maybe John laughing at him, and then John sat up and leaned forward to pull condoms and lube out from under the pillow. "You were asleep," John said in answer to Cam's pointedly raised eyebrows. "There was a pharmacy."

"Better you than me," Cam said, imagining a scandalized cashier. He wondered if John ever blushed the way he did. Hell, he could feel the flush on his face now like he was standing in summer sun, and he bet he was red halfway down his chest.

"We'll take turns," John said, and stretched out alongside Cam, letting his mouth come to settle right against Cam's, letting him feel the smile before kissing him again. Cam was getting into the kissing and trying not to grab John when he realized, like a fog lifting, that this being a whole other thing from an anonymous hookup meant that the rules were different. John didn't have any problems with laying claim to just about every part of Cam with his hands and mouth, and Cam was being a little slow, here. He was allowed to touch John back, could have every bit of him without worrying that he was being too gay or too familiar. He dug his fingers into the fine soft hair at the back of John's neck and tugged. John's hips jerked, the hard length of his cock riding Cam's leg.

"I thought you were going to fuck me," Cam said.

John snorted. "Maybe I want you to ask nice." His hand made its way back between Cam's legs, thumb brushing over his balls just lightly enough to give him goosebumps before stroking the sensitive skin behind. "Maybe I want you to beg." A wet finger circled Cam's hole, teasing, and Cam's instinctive _yeah, no_ turned into a _well, maybe_ as he spread his legs, giving John access.

John murmured his approval and proceeded to take Cam apart, placing biting kisses down his neck as he arched, sucking Cam's nipples to hardness in a way that didn't so much distract Cam from the way John's fingers were opening him as amplify the sensation. Cam let himself drift with the pleasure for a bit, but when he came back to himself he was digging his hands hard into John's shoulders; scratching the hell out of his back, he figured, as he tried to pull John into him. He was _ready_.

"Come on," he said, and barely recognized his own voice. "Now, Sheppard."

The fingers in his ass twisted, and Cam sucked in air in surprise.

" _Please_ ," he added quickly. " _Pretty_ please." And then, because he'd never been clear on the whole _acting in his own self-interest_ thing, "with sugar on top, Colonel."

John raised his head at that, the smile gone from his dangerous look, like he was accepting a challenge. "Yes, _sir_ ," he said, and slapped Cam's hip, not so hard that it stung – much – but the sound was electric. "Grab a pillow. Colonel."

When John had Cam all arranged to his liking, pillow raising his ass, legs spread and exposed, he knelt up and just started pressing in without warning, one hand on Cam's knee and eyes fixed on where his other hand was guiding his dick, watching their bodies joining. Cam felt stretched wide, but the way John's chest rose and fell, sweat dampening the hair on his chest like he'd been running, sent a thrill of power through him. Yeah, there were plenty of selfish reasons he liked being fucked, but right behind his own pleasure was the smugness that came from being able to make someone else come apart.

John was trying to hold Cam still as he started easing into short, controlled thrusts. Cam got fed up with that pretty fast, breaking and telling John to just _do_ him already.

"You gotta ask better than that," John bit out through hard breaths, voice sandpaper raw. "Because maybe I don't know what you want."

"Your _dick_ ," Cam snapped. "Frustration _sucks_ , Sheppard."

"Anticipation," John corrected, but he set his teeth and leaned in. He filled Cam with one long slow relentless push that drove the air out of Cam's lungs and was nearly enough to make Cam take back what he'd asked for. But then John jerked his hips hard and bottomed out, balls fitting snug up against Cam's, and John dropped his hands down to either side of Cam and leaned down to kiss him. Cam'd been feeling like he'd either suffocate or scream, like he'd been opened like a book, but the way John kissed made him feel almost invincible.

John's hips wouldn't or couldn't hold still, and Cam used every trick he had to goad John into letting go and giving in. He could feel the pleasure building inside him, electric jolts that only made him want more.

"Come on," he said, finding a nipple with one hand and scratching over it with his thumbnail, then pinching the sting away while John swore. "Come on, John." He had a great view of the definition in John's arms, every muscle tight and straining, sheening with sweat. " _Please_ ," Cam added, tipping his head back and digging his feet into the mattress enough to give himself the leverage he needed to push up onto John's dick impatiently. John liked it when he begged, he was pretty sure of that. "Please just – "

" _God_ ," John ground out from between clenched teeth. His shoulders bunched up and his hips swung down like his body had a fulcrum – or maybe Cam was the point John centered on. It sure felt like that, because John was relentless once he got started. Cam tried to fuck back as good as he got, chasing sensation that built up like a thunderhead. He gave up on being quiet and let himself shout, grabbing his dick and doing his level damn best to hold himself right there on the edge. For a moment he felt like he was pulling Gs, flattened to the mattress by the hand of God, and then he was launched free, electric pleasure shooting through him, making him buck up and shake loose, vision going black and mind wiped and bone-deep sated.

John fucked him through to the end and then pulled out. Cam got himself together enough to raise his head and get his eyes open, just in time to see John stripping his dick desperately, kneeling up, hair a damp disaster, open mouth bruised-looking. He met Cam's gaze with desperation.

"John," Cam said, and reached for him, and John started coming the second Cam's fingers curled around his wrist.

John was pretty nearly always easy on the eyes, but caught up in orgasm, Cam thought he looked gorgeous. He was overcome with a wave of fond possessiveness: he'd been the one to push John over that edge, his body had given John this pleasure, John had wanted _him_. Cam dragged John down to the mattress and kissed him even before he'd got his breath back. They were messy; Cam didn't care. He had his fingers in John's hair and John's arm was around him, warm and heavy, and they were so doing this again. Whenever, wherever. He was not going to give John up.

He told John that later on, when they were jostling each other in the shower, and John shoved him against the wall and kissed him, pushing his knee between Cam's legs in a way that made Cam a little light-headed. But that might also have been because John was hogging the hot water.

"Yeah, well," John said when Cam pointed this out. "It took us months to finally get hot running water on Atlantis, way back when. I have trauma."

"I'll give you trauma," Cam threatened, and John handed him the conditioner in surrender.

Cam thought the morning after might be awkward, but instead John kissed him and blew him and made him breakfast. Cam was feeling pretty lucky. Too bad he had trouble trusting in good luck.

"I got to ask," Cam said, leaning back against the kitchen counter and setting his glass of juice down. "Did you make a move on me because I'm not going to Pegasus?"

John gave the oatmeal he was making another precise stir and then dropped the lid on the pot and turned the burner off. He turned and studied Cam, as if he wasn't quite sure they were speaking the same language. "Did you decide not to go to Pegasus because of me?"

Cam blinked. "Never even crossed my mind," he said, startled into saying what he thought before considering that it might not be polite. Especially since he guessed now that John'd maybe been courting him patiently for months now, and with no especial hope that anything'd ever come of it.

John nodded, letting his gaze fall to the floor, but when he looked up he was smiling like he was pleased with himself. He cocked a finger in Cam's direction. "Exactly."

Cam felt suddenly lighter, like he'd finally broken through cloud cover and had the whole blue sky open above him. "But I'm serious that we're going to do this again."

John's smile widened. "Sounds like a plan." He crossed to the shelves and snagged a couple of bowls. "Not what I ever expected." He shrugged. "I have a bad habit of getting crushes on my straight best friends," he said, sounding apologetic as he started spooning the oatmeal out. "Usually I end up asked to be best man at their weddings."

Cam winced. "That must suck hard."

John set the pot in the sink and turned to raise an eyebrow at Cam. "Are you – does your family know?" John moved the bowls to the table and gestured to Cam's chair like a sarcastic invitation.

Cam grabbed the milk from the fridge on his way over. He hated burning his mouth on breakfast. "Hell, no." He settled down and thought, watching the sun backlight John's hair, how weird this was, and how unexpectedly comfortable. "They're good people, I don't mean they'd be – " he grimaced, and stirred milk into his oatmeal while he tried to find the right words. "I think they'd understand, if there was someone who was important to me." He hadn't made his own peace with his one-night stands over the years; he didn't know which would be worse, his father's disapproval of him being queer _and_ sleeping around or his mother's attempts to be cool with it.

John looked mildly alarmed, his spoon stopping midair. "That wasn't a hint." He put the spoon down and leaned back in his chair. "Anyway. I'm not inviting myself over to your folks'. Sam said she could beam me up at ten, so I'll be taking off then. Getting back to my city."

Cam frowned. "Seems kind of inhospitable to send you away without even some of my mother's pie after – " he waved his spoon – "arranging all this."

John shrugged. "Don't want to make trouble."

Cam wondered what the hell was wrong with people these days, that they kept trying to take away the things he wanted, and loved. "If I call, will you pick me up? Maybe a day or two early, so we can come back here and do a little birdwatching?"

John tried to hold in a smile; it didn't work too well. "Sure."

"Good," Cam said. "I'm glad we had this little talk." He took a decisive bite of the oatmeal, which tasted disconcertingly just like his mother's, stick-to-the-ribs thick and just a bit too salty. He swallowed and took a swig of juice. "You're going to miss me when you're off in that galaxy of yours."

John gave him an intense look that gave Cam all kinds of flashbacks to the night before. "Don't let this go to your head," he said, "but you've always been one of the few people on this planet I always want to see again."

Cam absolutely let that go to his head, feeling his cheeks warm. "I think you're supposed to kiss me when you say things like that," he said.

"I can do that," John said, pushing his chair back and getting up in a way that made Cam feel like prey being stalked. He leaned down and curled a hand around Cam's jaw, tipping his head back so their eyes met. "I told you," he went on, and yeah, the roughness of his bedroom voice did all kinds of things to Cam's insides, "I want you to remember this."

"No way I'm forgetting," Cam promised.

"I'm glad." John's smile had gone sharp again, and Cam reached out to him, finally, _finally_ looking forward to the future and anticipating good things to come.


End file.
